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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282482">Soldier of Fortune</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BibliovoreOrc/pseuds/BibliovoreOrc'>BibliovoreOrc</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:02:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BibliovoreOrc/pseuds/BibliovoreOrc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A gun-for-hire gets drawn into the squabbles of a prospecting town, when the local mood turns nasty.</p>
<p>Set on Jakkard, the Magic: Expanded Multiverse's wild-west-inspired fan plane.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Soldier of Fortune</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s going to be trouble.”</p>
<p>Hiss narrowed one eye and spat. She looked down at the deputy – a mousey-looking noggle in an oversized hat, who was gripping his six-shooter so tight it’d be a miracle if he could draw. Then she looked over at the goods store, where the deputy was looking, and where the jostling crowd was getting increasingly agitated.</p>
<p>Hiss took a bitterroot seed from her pocket and chewed it, then adjusted her hat.</p>
<p>“There’s going to be trouble,” the deputy said again.</p>
<p>“I heard you the first time,” Hiss said, and spat. She fixed her hat again, blocking the worst of the sun.</p>
<p>“But there is going to be trouble,” the nog insisted.</p>
<p>“Yep,” Hiss said.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to do anything?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Hiss said.</p>
<p>The noggle looked gobsmacked. “Why not?” he said.</p>
<p>Hiss spat out the seed husk, and just missed the small pile on the dusty ground. The rattler took another seed from her pocket and sucked on it.</p>
<p>“Two reasons,” the rattler said. “First off, I’m paid to protect railroad property, not the goods store. And second?” The rattler spat. “It’s too damn hot.”</p>
<p>Up above, the Jakkard sun was broiling. Even beneath the brim of her hat and the shade of the station awning, Hiss was baking in her scales. And, as she watched the scene developing in town, she could figure that the heat wasn’t improving the mood of the prospectors, either. The 12:15 from Dayko had arrived bang on time, disgorging its load of antsy prospectors onto Fortune’s only street just at the peak of the midday sun. The smart prospectors had collected their gear from the luggage car, and set off into the hills, looking to stake their claims before the rest of the mob caught up. Those prospectors less gifted with foresight had made a beeline for the goods store, where the fox proprietor – a real gray-furred dandy, in suspenders and spats – was selling shovels and picks for twenty boks a piece. Those prices had gotten the crowd sour – a shovel and pick could’ve been had in Dayko for hardly a tenth of what the fox charged – and it hadn’t taken long for the murmurs to start. Then the fox had run out of shovels and picks, and the murmur had turned to a rumble. The fox was on top of his counter, now, trying to shoo the unsatisfied customers out with broad sweeps of his arms. Meanwhile, in the crowd that had gathered outside, Hiss caught a glimpse of iron appearing in prospectors’ hands – and not in the form of shovels or picks.</p>
<p>“You have to do something,” the deputy said.</p>
<p>“Nope,” Hiss said. “Not my business.”</p>
<p>“I thought you Bowlertons were supposed to be tough.”</p>
<p>“We are,” Hiss said. “Tough, and expensive. And, last I checked, you weren’t paying my bills.” She spat her seed husk at the pile, and missed. “Not unless the sheriff bought the railroad when I wasn’t paying attention.”</p>
<p>The deputy made to draw his pistol, which stuck in its holster as he tried to pull it out. The hammer was caught on a belt loop. As he fumbled for the gun, Hiss had half a mind to take it away, before he hurt himself – or someone else.</p>
<p>“How long you been with the company?” the noggle said.</p>
<p>“With the Bowlertons?” Hiss flicked her tongue in the air. “About six years.”</p>
<p>“And were you in Verkell, what, five years back?” the nog said. “For the bread riots?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Hiss said.</p>
<p>“Well, I was,” the noggle said, still trying to free his pistol. “And I’ve seen what happens when a mob like this gets going. Once the looting starts, you think they’ll stop with the goods store? These people want shovels, and picks. You know what’s inside that depot, just two blocks from here? Shovels, and picks. That’s railroad property, ain’t it?”</p>
<p>The pistol hammer was still caught in the noggle’s belt. Hiss swatted his hand aside, and pulled the gun out herself. The noggle held out his hand, but Hiss didn’t offer him the pistol. Instead, the rattler pointed the gun straight up in the air, and pulled the trigger, six times.</p>
<p>The sound of the shots froze the crowd like a basilisk. The angry rumble – which had been building to a violent crescendo – died away to nothing, leaving the street eerily quiet. From inside the goods store, the fox in suspenders and spats – who had covered his eyes when the gun went off – peeked out from behind his fingers.</p>
<p>“Store’s closed,” Hiss said, not having to shout to be heard through the silence. She dropped the deputy’s empty revolver to the ground, before unslinging her rifle. “So get.”</p>
<p>“Get?” The voice belonged to a one-horned minotaur, who elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, a pistol hanging loosely in his hand. “Get where?”</p>
<p>“The saloon,” Hiss said, shouldering her rifle. “The hotel. The whorehouse. Get back on the train, I don’t care.” She racked the lever, putting a round in the chamber. “You all came here to prospect, didn’t you? So get prospecting. The hills are out that way.” She cocked her head at the jagged horizon. “You won’t find any mana in town.”</p>
<p>“And what’re we supposed to dig with,” the minotaur said, taking another step forward. “Our hands?”</p>
<p>“You look like the resourceful type,” Hiss said. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Now get. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here.”</p>
<p>“Suppose I don’t feel like going,” the minotaur said, lowering his single horn. “Suppose I feel like—”</p>
<p>Hiss pulled the trigger.</p>
<p>The crack of the rifle echoed down the dusty street. There was a sound of metal striking metal as the pistol jumped out of the minotaur’s hand, bent almost in half by the force of the bullet. The minotaur, meanwhile, made a kind of bellowing roar, more out of shock than pain. Then, as the shock wore off, he glanced down at his hand, bleeding from a dozen splinters, and, swearing a streak that would’ve shocked the angels up in all seven heavens – if the angels were still listening, which Hiss suspected they weren’t – the minotaur stuck his hand in his mouth, and sucked on a bloody finger.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Hiss said, as she racked the lever again, putting a fresh bullet in the chamber. “For a minute there I was worried I was losing your attention.”</p>
<p>She looked over the minotaur’s shoulder, at the dumbstruck crowd. Few sets of eyes met hers – the prospectors were mostly looking at the ground. The flashes of iron she’d seen in hands only moments before had conspicuously disappeared.</p>
<p>“As I was saying,” Hiss said, “store’s closed. Now get.”</p>
<p>And, with that, the tension in the air broke, and the mob broke with it. The prospectors diffused from a single crowd into scores of small, chattering knots, which streamed off in all directions. Some headed towards the saloon – the only one in Fortune – where the off-tune strains of a player piano beckoned from the dark and cool interior, and where the barkeep fox – a cousin of the one who owned the goods store – would relieve the newcomers of their boks just as surely as his kinsman had. Others climbed the steps up to the platform, where the train would take them back to Dayko. They’d be waiting some hours still, but at least they’d wait in the shade. A few prospectors actually trudged off in the direction of the hills, and Hiss wondered idly if they actually would try to dig up the Waste with their bare hands. Prospecting without kit was crazy, but, then, there was crystal mana in the hills, and mana did crazy things to people.</p>
<p>More likely, Hiss decided, these stragglers would head out on the trail of the better-prepared prospectors, and, if they caught up with them out of sight of the town – and of the law – they would relieve them of their kit. After all, that was what Hiss would’ve done, if she were in their place. Lead was cheaper than gold.</p>
<p>Next to Hiss, the deputy noggle – who’d been stunned silent the whole time – had picked up his gun from the ground, and was trying to reload the cylinder. He was finding it tough going. His fingers were shaking.</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to do that,” the noggle said.</p>
<p>Hiss laughed. “You’re the one who wanted me to do something,” she said.</p>
<p>“Something,” the noggle said. “Not that.”</p>
<p>Hiss laughed again.</p>
<p>“What’d you have in mind?” she said. “A lot of ‘please’ and ‘thanks?’” She let the rifle drop, and popped another seed in her mouth. “I don’t go in for that stuff.”</p>
<p>“No,” the deputy said. “I can see not.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome,” Hiss said.</p>
<p>“Fine, fine,” the deputy said, shaking his head. “But, take my advice—”</p>
<p>“Do I have to?” Hiss said.</p>
<p>“You’re a real sumbitch, aren’t you?” the deputy said. “That why they sent you all the way out here?”</p>
<p>“I am not without my charms,” Hiss said.</p>
<p>“Alright, then, Miss Charms,” the nog said. “What do you propose to do about that?” He pointed at the one-horned minotaur, who was still nursing his splintered hand. “You do realize you just made us both an enemy for life, right? Those bulls nurse their blood feuds. As soon as he can hold a pistol again, he’ll be coming for us.”</p>
<p>“Point taken,” Hiss said, and, snapping the rifle back to her shoulder, she shot the minotaur dead.</p>
<p>“Seven hells!” the noggle said, his fingers stuck belatedly in his ears. “He was unarmed!”</p>
<p>“I know,” Hiss said. She racked a bullet into the chamber.</p>
<p>“That’s murder!” the deputy said, much too loudly.</p>
<p>“Then charge me,” Hiss said. She spat out the seed husk, missing the pile. “The company’ll bail me, I’ll be on the next train back to Verkell, and you’ll be stuck here with this lot.” Her tongue flicked the air. “And you know those bulls and their blood feuds. Bad business, that. If anything, I’d say you need me around these parts, now more than ever.” The rattler grinned. “Wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>The deputy shook his head. “You’re a mean sumbitch, too, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Hiss adjusted her hat.</p>
<p>“Mean,” she said. “And expensive.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story was originally written as part of the Magic: Expanded Multiverse project. I am deeply indebted to all my M:EM colleagues for their thoughtful input and feedback.</p>
<p>Magic: The Gathering is the property of Wizards of the Coast. This is a transformative work of fanfiction, protected in the United States under the laws of Fair Use.</p>
<p>All works copyright their respective creators.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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